


Sevolg

by Shinytalent



Category: Constantine (Comic), Zatanna (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Foot Fetish, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Tickling, Revenge Sex, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16385078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinytalent/pseuds/Shinytalent
Summary: Constantine has made Zatanna angry.  Angry enough to use her magic, and her wiles to exact some very specific revenge.





	Sevolg

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything that I've wanted to publish in a good long while, but the writing muse bit me hard and I felt compelled.  
> Please be kind to an out of practice writer.

John was in a predicament. Lying on his back on a table and testing the spell that binds him in place. The Demonologist guessed that he wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. There isn't any point to straining, the spell-work is top notch. He couldn't have done better himself.

“Z, love, if you just let me explain-” John tries to rationalise, tries to calm the sorceress down.  
“Gag.” With a word John Constantine is choking on his own tie but when he takes a beat to breath he realises it is only there to keep him quiet.

"Sevolg etihw." The familiar crackle of magic fills the air.  
It's rare for Z to direct her magic at him, but then this was an unusual circumstance for him to be in. Normally he can talk his way out of it, a little hard when a bloke's being silenced with his own tie. She must be standing somewhere behind him, but that doesn't stop the feeling of satin sliding on bare skin. If he strains himself John can see a pair of white gloves, minus any sort of hands, make their way slowly toward his very bare feet. A snap of a pair of fingers sounds right by his ear, startling him, forcing John Constantine Master of the Dark Arts to admit that maybe he is a wee bit concerned that he is out of his depth. 

The sensation of disembodied satin fingers tracing circles around his ankle is soothing and distracting. One hand cups his ankle, can you call them hands at this point? Focus dammit Man! Concentrate and maybe you can get yourself out of this.  
Floating fingers walk slowly up his insole causing a shiver while the hand on his heel gives a gentle squeeze. Maybe she isn't mad, after all? Maybe it's just a bit of fun? Actual fingers cup his jaw as a very pissed off Zatanna Zatara comes into view, and sue this Liverpool lad, for thinking she's even hotter when the magician looks like she is going to take a hot poker to his delicate areas.  
“Tch tch enitnatsnoC. yatS”  
John's head had been raised upward and now her magic sends it thumping to the table.  
"sevolg der." Again the room crackles with magic and John flinches, waiting for something to happen.

As the satiny pair of ghostly fingers squeeze and knead, pet and stroke at one foot, he starts to relax, he shivers as fingers find the arches again, thumbs caressing in tiny circles.  
Until now his right foot has been unattended, lying slack on the hard wood table until he feels something fuzzy brush his big toe.  
Curious fingers relentless in their efforts to discover where it tickles the most starting with a light scratching of the soft flesh underneath each toe. Constantine tries to pull his feet together to protect his right foot with his left but two thumbs press the place where the instep lowers to meet the heel and he finds himself trying to chuckle around the gag in his mouth.

A little rake of silky fingernails on his left foot holding tight near the arches, stroking down with the tip of a middle finger before the entire hand flattens adding firm pressure upwards until it hits their toes. At that silken fingers slide through toes on his left foot, as fuzzy fingers do the same to the right.

"sevolg kcalb"  
John is squirming now, laughter choking out around the tie gag, straining to think of some counter-spell he has that is going to get him out of this. Constantine has faced down demons, has stared down Batman, has gone toe to toe with some of the most terrifying creatures summoned out of Hell and yet he was powerless against this incredibly angry, raven haired magician he was powerless.  
When thinking back on this moment John Constantine, dabbler in the dark arts, would never admit to himself that he whines, but that would be the sound that cuts off his fit of giggles. The slide of leather fingers dragging down his ribs causes him to buck his hips.  
"You know John," Zatanna steps into his line of sight finally "we may not be exclusive, but a girl can get jealous. All your time with the Legends, with White Canary, and you don't even think to stop in and say hello." 

Constantine's eyes widen as black leather thumbs squeeze his hips. before tracing small circles around his sharp hip bones. Perhaps it's the change in sensation that makes him realise that he no longer feels any sort of ticklish sensation on his foot. In fact there isn't any sort of feeling on either foot.  
Satin fingers run up his thighs, squeezing them hard.  
All he wants is release, of any kind. John won't deny the game hasn't been fun but he's hard and frustrated and now he will admit to whining. Hell he'd whine and beg and sell his soul all over again if Constantine thought it would get him out of this.  
Spectral fingers unzip his pants and the click of a belt buckle being released fills the silence. The sensation of butter smooth leather palming the underside of his cock causes him to bite down on his favourite tie as he swallows.  
Leather fingers tighten their grip as they slide up and down, Constantine tries desperately to thrust into the glove holding him and yet there are still those strong fingers holding down his left hip, preventing him from properly gaining any sort of leverage.

As fingers twist their grip around the tip all he wants is to lose himself in that sensation, but he can't. Those crafty red fingers have wormed their way under his arm pits and now it's a battle of warring sensations.  
Fuzzy fingertips digging under his arms, probing for those most ticklish places as leather gloves both palm his bollocks and stroke his rock hard length. All John wants is release.  
Bright blue eyes alive with magic meet his. "Blink twice if you understand why I'm so mad." Oh that voice, it makes him shiver for all the right reasons and while seeing Zatanna mad is a sight worth dying for he'd rather not go to Hell just yet and so John blinks twice.  
"Good." The woman licks her lips before biting the bottom lip, as if lost in thought while she takes in the scene.  
"Emover gag"  
The tie drops to the ground and he's gasping. "Z, love, please, anything." She arches an eyebrow.  
"I do love watching you beg."  
All the while the relentless pace set by that black glove around his cock is making everything hard to focus on. John chuckles to himself, that pun is very intended.  
"If there's a joke here, please share." A twist of the wrist has him crying out and finally he can raise his hips just enough to fuck up into the tight grip.  
Closing his eyes tight, trying desperately to focus on just the one hand while satin skims his sides, fuzzy wool squeezes his knee before scratching behind it, they team up to press thumbs under armpits and it's all just too bloody much. A man could go crazy right here, all because of this one bird.  
Finally he attempts to incoherently babble in demon tongues, to see if any of them would respond to a cry for help, he feels his release build.  
"Z, love, please, let me- I'm going to..."  
There's a whisper right in his ear "Emoc." With a wordless cry he finally feels that release, as it spurts and coats the glove still wrapped around his dick.  
He sees stars behind his eyes. Feels the blood rushing back through his body all at once.  
Sticky seed drying on his stomach Zatanna runs her own gloved fingertip through the pool and sucks it into her mouth.  
"Next time you think about crawling into bed with a time traveler, why don't you come say hello instead?" Wordlessly John nods to her.  
"Tropelet emoh." Just like that she vanishes leaving him alone, tired, and feeling weightless. 

"Bollocks." He says to the quiet room.


End file.
